


Dark rooms and revelations

by Laura_Sinele



Series: Fictober 2019 drabbles [17]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Gen, Idiots in Love, Injury, Post canon, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Emotional Tension, implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 08:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Sinele/pseuds/Laura_Sinele
Summary: Illyia admits he was wrong.





	Dark rooms and revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fictober19 prompt 19: "Yes, I admit it, you were right"
> 
> Nothing juicy whatsoever, but that's precisely whatI like about this two: every interaction is oozing sexual/romantic/emotional tension. Like, kiss already for the love of God! I'll probably make them kiss some day. If you like this pairing and how I write them, prompts 5 and 12 on this series are about them, too. I think they belong in the same post-canon universe, but still not sure if I'll make something about it or in which order they happen.
> 
> PS: The title might not make much sense, it’s kind of an inner joke. In Spanish "to develop a picture" is “revelar una fotografía”. Dark Rooms and Revelations had a nice ring because I’ve been listening a lot of Muse lately, one of my favourite songs by them is “Black Holes and Revelations” ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The door to their cheap roadside motel accommodations opened after a sequence of knocks that spelled OK in Morse code. In came Solo, and Illya rose from his chair at the file covered table expecting a debrief on his outing. However, Solo limited his interaction to a risen finger in his direction that could have meant anything from "wait" to "don't mess with me", and locked himself in the bathroom.

Illya pursed his lips in disapproval, sat down again and resumed his work cross-referencing bank movements and phone calls between a certain set of suspects. Intelligence would normally do this, but they were in a delicate situation with one agent down, presumably already being taken care of in some secretive medical facility in London. In the wake of this, their communication means had been compromised. They were on their own, Solo and him, and they could not even agree on who was in cahoots with whom. That's why Solo had gone out to take some furtive pictures of his culprits of choice, while Illya stayed, trying to find the facts to back his accusations on others.

The sun was beginning to set when Solo emerged, in his waistcoat and shirt, brandishing a handful of blow-ups. He dropped them on the clear end of the table, fixed himself a glass of scotch and sat down in the armchair, theatrically opposite to Illya, while undoing his vest buttons with his free hand.

Illya glanced at the developed pictures from his seat and then at Solo, who swirled the glass in his hand in an inviting motion for his colleague to take a closer look. Illya stood and examined attentively every photograph, in silence. They proved Solo's theory on this case, and discarded his. He looked up at Solo, who inclined his head pointedly, eyebrows arched, waiting for Illya to say something. Illya rolled his eyes and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"Yes, I admit it, you were right"

"Thank you", said Solo emphatically, and only then he proceeded to take a sip from his drink, as if it was a reward for getting Illya to condone on this.


End file.
